


Infinite

by aloevera



Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, I'll add more tags as they're necessary, I'm impatient and can't wait for infinity war, suicidal thoughs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:37:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloevera/pseuds/aloevera
Summary: It's been two years since the Accords tore apart the Avengers. They all promised to return should the world need them. Now, that time has come. (Or, I'm really impatient and can't wait for Infinity War.)





	Infinite

The clock is unnecessary, the ticking only serves as a distraction in an age where everyone carries an alarm clock in their pocket, but the steady noise keeps you grounded in the reinforced silence of the soundproof conference room; the click as the hand throws seconds away without a thought holds you in place more securely than the thick glass walls.

 

The plush leather of the office chair is too soft against your skin, too inviting, and it feels wrong to be sitting there. The glass walls leave you feeling exposed, the flashes of movement as agents rush down the halls leave you anxious, and the loneliness that comes with being the first to arrive makes you feel abandoned all over again. Coupled with the memories of the last time you sat in this chair that are still fresh in your mind, these feelings make you want to scream or run or bury your head in the sand because the compound should feel like home. 

 

It should feel comfortable, like safety or peace.

 

Above all, it should feel _welcoming_.

 

But you’re not really surprised that you don’t feel all that welcome. You’re not an Avenger anymore.

 

Not technically, anyway.

 

Although nothing has changed in the compound since you last sat in this chair, everything else has.

 

The last time you sat here, upset by a mission gone wrong but determined to handle the next with grace, you had no way of knowing what was coming your way. You had no way of knowing that you’d never be able to step into the compound without feeling unwelcome or uncomfortable ever again. You had no way of knowing that the people who had become your family would become complete strangers.

 

You had no way of knowing that you life would fall apart at the seams.

 

But it had.

 

The last time that you sat in that chair, the Accords had been brought forth for you to sign. While Tony brought up valid points, you found yourself agreeing with Steve. What happens if the world truly needs you and the committee decides that it doesn’t?

 

You couldn’t let yourself be regulated, turned into a weapon to be used as a shadow government body deemed fit.

 

You couldn’t willingly hand over your freedom of choice.

 

When Steve refused to sign the Accords, so did you.

 

Following him to Europe, fighting your family in a war that wasn’t yours to win to save a man that you’d never met, was far too easy. It felt second nature, to let him lead you and to trust him with your life. It felt like the right choice.

 

_It still feels like the right choice._

 

But looking back now, from the discomfort of the conference room where it all began, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened had you sided with Tony.

 

You never would’ve been imprisoned, forced to run and hide like a fugitive for nearly two years. You wouldn’t have lost Tony, a man who had become the closest to real family you’d ever had, and you wouldn’t have had to watch your friends disappear into the night with false promises of reunification.

 

You wouldn’t have had to watch your family tear each other apart.

 

But you’d chosen Steve, wholeheartedly and without a second thought, and you can’t go back to change any of it.

 

You can’t change the fact that you lost the only life you’ve ever known. You can’t change the fact that you’ve lived in fear of being thrown back into a prison in the depths of the ocean for nearly two years. You can’t change the fact that your closest friends are now strangers.

 

You can’t change the fact that none of this should’ve ever happened.

 

And it is simultaneously so recent and so long ago that you just want to return to the sense of normalcy that you’ve managed to carve out for yourself.

 

But you can’t help thinking about how you ended up so lost, so far away, and so desperate to be free of the only life you’ve ever truly lived. If only things had been different, if only you had been different, then maybe the sinking in the pit of your stomach wouldn’t be driving you insane.

 

But throwing yourself back into saving the world, wearing the suit, and following orders that you didn’t believe in felt wrong. Living at the compound without your closest friends, being surrounded by strangers in suits who knew nothing about you felt wrong. Being told that you couldn’t be trusted to continue your work without some sort of federal babysitter watching your every move felt wrong.

 

And doing it all without _him_? There was no way.

 

When he freed you and the others from the Raft, you wanted to follow him. You wanted to help him, do what was right, and continue saving the world. But he’d been adamant in telling you that you should let him go, live your own life; _“I’ll be here if you need me but you need to do what’s best for you.”_

 

And even though you felt that doing what was best for you was doing what was best for him, he gave you no room to argue. He vanished with a parting smile and a promise to return should you, or the world for that matter, need him.

 

For a while after his disappearance, you were lost. Clint had been itching to retire for ages, Wanda and Vision had each other, Scott had Cassie, and Natasha knew how to disappear at the drop of a hat. You, on the other hand, had forgotten what it was like to live without them; without _him_.

 

You wandered around the world, in and out of cities you’d wanted to visit for ages, but it all felt hollow. Where you expected to feel joy or find peace, you found emptiness. You felt that there was no point in trying, in pretending that you were relieved or finally free or feeling whatever it was that you were supposed to feel.

 

You were putting on a show for an audience that no longer existed.

 

So instead of painting on a smile and pretending to be fine, you let yourself fall into the emptiness.

 

You let go of the anger, of the sadness, of the passion, of the love, of the longing, of the joy; you let go of any ties you felt toward your old life and wallowed in your loss of identity, of family, of love. And it was only when you hit rock bottom that you allowed yourself to feel _anything_ again.

 

You expected to feel anger, to feel betrayal, to feel hurt; but when a light seemed to finally cut through the fog that had clouded your every waking moment since they all vanished, you felt peace.You felt that you’d be able to move on, do something with your life, and make something meaningful out of the pieces you’d been left to put back together.

 

But the moment you decided to move on, to piece yourself back together, was the moment that you were pulled back in.

 

The blocked number should’ve given you enough reason to ignore the call, it should’ve been a massive red flag screaming _‘Ignore me!’_. But you were retired. You’d been out of the game for nearly two years and nothing had happened; what harm could a phone call do?

 

When you heard Fury’s voice, you knew that a single phone call could destroy your world.

 

_“We need you,” he informs you before you can even say ‘hello’, “we need everyone.”_

 

_“I’m retired,” you sigh as you slide down the wall and bring your knees to your chest, “and not like Clint. I’m retired for good.”_

 

_“There’s no such thing as retirement. Be ready in thirty minutes, Hill’s on her way,” he informs you before he hangs up, leaving you with no room to argue._

 

_You debate running, leaving your shitty apartment and the few things you’d managed to accumulate, but you know that even without the full force of SHIELD, Fury is still capable of finding you. He’s let you stay hidden for this long but now, you have no choice. If you don’t gather your things, you’ll just be transported to New York without any of your belongings and in a worse mood than when you started._

 

_With a huff, you stand from the floor and set to work grabbing the things you know that you’ll need._

 

_Sure enough, thirty minutes later on the dot Maria Hill enters your apartment. The look on her face tells you that she’d been expecting a fight of some sort, complaints or whining, but when you pull on your sneakers and grab your bag without argument, she gestures for you to follow her._

 

_“What’s so important that they had to call us all in?” you question as soon as you’re situated on the jet. “Or, rather, what’s so important that Fury is calling us all in? He disappeared when we were tearing each other apart. Why the hell should we help him?”_

 

_“It’s not him you’re helping,” she informs you as she turns in her seat. “Something’s coming, bigger than anything we’ve ever faced, and we need everyone. It’s all hands on deck until this is over.”_

 

_You’re silent for a moment before you throw out, “But I thought we couldn’t be trusted.”_

 

_Maria stares at you for a long moment, her eyes searching your face for something you’re not sure she’ll find, before she sighs. “They don’t trust you. It’s a suicide mission. No matter how this ends, we’re going to lose someone, maybe everyone. But if we can take him down with us, then we’ve done our job.”_

 

_“So Fury is leading us all like sheep to the slaughter, then?” you hum. When she doesn’t answer, you nod and lean your head against the metal wall. “That’s fine,” you shrug as you closer your eyes. “Isn’t that what were all brought in to do in the first place?” Again, silence from Maria. You debate telling her this, worried she’ll hurt someone else by making them keep an eye on you, but you want to be honest. “I hate to tell you this,” you begin as you shift in your seat, “but I don’t really have a lot of fight left in me. A year ago? Sure. Hulk levels of anger stored away. But now? I’m tired. I want to stop running. I don’t want to keep fighting. So, if this is how it all ends, this is how it all ends.”_

 

_At this, Maria’s eyes resume their scan of your face and you crack an eye to see her thinking of a response. But before she can speak, you ask, “Will everyone be here?”_

 

_“Yes,” she nods, “everyone will be here. There are a few new faces, too.”_

 

_“No offense,” you hum as your eyes slip closed once more, “but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t plan on sticking around long enough to get to know them.”_

 

Your conversation effectively ended after that declaration and the remainder of the flight was a tense, silent one. Since she ushered you into the conference room, you haven’t seen or spoken to anyone other than Maria. She’d left with a quiet promise that the others were on their way and, while you’re sure that they are, you can’t help feeling like you’re all being set up for failure once more.

 

The last time you were in this room had ended with you all tearing one another apart. With the knowledge of how this mission is supposed to end, you’re almost thankful. Two years ago, sitting in this position would have left you nauseous and terrified but now?

 

You’re just hoping these strangers you once called friends will let you play the martyr this time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prologue of sorts. I have an idea but it's been eighty years since I wrote a chaptered fic. So. Let's go. Also, everything will be eventual. Like, eventual death, eventual violence, eventual smut. That sort of thing. Let me know if you're interested in reading on? :)


End file.
